


Come on Skinny Love...

by bucknstevie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucknstevie/pseuds/bucknstevie
Summary: Bucky has a lot going on his life. College, friends, expectations from his parents.But the hardest thing he's had to deal with is being in love with his best friend. So when Steve asks him to be his boyfriend for the week leading up to his birthday to get his parents off his back, Bucky is all too happy to accept. Besides, how much can one week hurt, right?
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Instead of posting the warnings at the beginning of the fic, i've decided to post the warning tags at the beginning of the chapters, because some will be more difficult than others
> 
> So be warned, this chapter does include past depictions of violence, towards the end of the chapter. So if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip (it'll all be written in italics, even though they are flashbacks and will eventually come to the light as the story progresses)
> 
> Feel free to come talk to me on my tumblr, I'm nice I swear<3 [bucknstevie](http://bucknstevie.tumblr.com/)

_Ten more fucking minutes_ he groans as his alarm goes off for the third time. Bucky’s head is pounding from the drinking game between Nat and him the night before. What possessed him to think he could beat a Russian in a drinking game? It all started when him and Nat were sitting at the dining table, playing what started out as an innocent game of battleship.

“You know what would make this a _thousand_ times better?”

“What?” Nat said, not bothering to look up at Bucky speaking to her. Her eyes had been glued to the board since they started. She was extremely competitive and hated losing to Bucky, who turned out to be quite the sore winner. She had already lost two games so far, and was dead set on winning _at least_ one game.

Without skipping a beat, Bucky pushed his chair back with his feet, and sauntered over to the cabinet in the kitchen where they kept their stash of booze, and pulled out the biggest bottle of vodka they had. It had been his 21st birthday gift from Tony. Kind of like a ‘Congrats! You’re finally legal!’ gift. The bottle was easily the size of a small child, and Bucky had been saving it for the right time. Somehow, tonight had become _that_ night.

He brought the bottle to the table and set it down loud enough for it to snap Nat out of her thoughts. She looked at the bottle, then back to Bucky before throwing her head back, a huge laugh escaping from her lips.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Bucky simply shook his head.

“Bucky, we have class tomorrow. Do you really want to show up, hungover as hell to your class at 10?”

“Oh, come on. Live a little Romanoff,” Giving her a small kick under the table, he then grabbed the bottle and held it in his hands for a few seconds before handing it over to her. She shook her head while simultaneously rolling her eyes before caving in and taking the bottle from him.

“You know, I’m totally going to out drink you, right?” She challenged.

“Please. I spent my entire 21st year being absolutely shit-faced. I’ve built up my tolerance.”

“We’ll see about that,” She said over her shoulder as she grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet.

The rules were simple. If Bucky hit one of Nat’s ships, she’d drink. If he missed then he would drink, and vice-versa. He wasn’t sure how it happened but somehow, she had managed to hit one of his ships every single time she called them out. Him on the other hand, had only gotten two hits. She laughed after every shot Bucky threw back and giggling even more after every grimace he made once the shot was in his system. Four games later, half the bottle gone, and they weren’t even sure who was winning anymore. They were both drunk and cackling at each other.

So when his alarm starts going off for the fourth time now, Bucky’s about to throw his phone across the room.

“Barnes, we have class in an hour. If you don’t get your ass out of bed now, Banner’s going to rip you a new one,” Nat scolds, grabbing her shoe and throwing it at his comatose body.

“I feel like I’m dying,” He moans, his face buried in his pillow. He gathers just enough strength to turn his body to face her. She’s standing over him now, hands resting on her hips.

“Why the fuck did I think us drinking into oblivion was a good idea?” He admits. The light coming from the window is nearly blinding him. He squints hard, trying to ignore the pounding in his head.

“Because you’re an idiot. Get off your ass and shower, _now._ ” She turns on her heel, red hair bouncing as she walks out of his room.

Bucky collapses on his back, staring at the ceiling, wishing that he was dead. He drank _way way WAY_ too much last night. _Never again am I going to challenge Nat to a drinking game_ he thinks to himself. He hears her footsteps coming closer and decides the best thing for his sake is to get off his ass. She has always been a tough love kind of person, and does not pity anyone. If she tells you to do something, you do it; simple as that. She returns holding a glass of water and two aspirins. He takes it as his saving grace and thanks her. She smiles and leans down to kiss his cheek.

Bucky doesn’t know what’s worse. The feeling of the sun beaming in his eyes despite the fact that he’s wearing sunglasses, or the sounds of Manhattan morning traffic.

_Traffic_ , he thinks. _Definitely the traffic_. 

Halfway to class, they run into Sam who’s heading towards the same building.

“What the hell happened to him?” He points to Bucky.

“ _Someone_ thought they could outdrink me and win at a game of battleship,” Nat taunts.

“Why the hell would you do that? You know Nat is like, insanely good at Battleship, right?”

“What the hell are you talking ab—Nat! I can’t believe you.” The wheels are turning inside Bucky’s brain— _holy shit,_ he’s been played. One hundred percent bested. “You pretended to play bad because you knew I’d bring alcohol into this and you _knew_ I’d drink way too much and be hungover as shit.”

Sam and Nat actually stop walking to belt out in laughter. Nat laughs so hard she has to hold onto Sam’s shoulder to keep upright. Bucky’s scowling at them both, arms crossed firmly against his chest. He can actually see tears starting up in the corners of her eyes.

“Bucky I-I-I’m so so-o-rry,” She manages to say between laughs.

Shaking his head aggressively, a small smile begins to creep up on his lips. Despite the fact that he feels like absolute death, that _was_ pretty funny. He just won’t ever admit that to her.

Class is an absolute nightmare. Banner’s going off about…something and Bucky’s head feels like it’s going to explode. All he wants to do is put his head down and sleep, but Banner is meticulous about that type of thing. He doesn’t allow anyone to sleep in class, which Bucky can sympathize with. What would be the point in coming to class if he plans to sleep through it? He tries his best to concentrate but his stomach feels like its about to dump last night’s contents right on his desk. He groans and rubs his forehead, trying to pull himself together. Realizing that paying attention to the lecture is something his brain isn’t capable of doing in his current state, he makes a mental note to ask someone in his class for the notes later.

After class, he walks over to his favorite café on campus and orders the biggest coffee he can. He still has two more classes to go to, and he’s going to need all the coffee he can get his hands on if he’s going to survive the day.

Just as he sits down at an empty table outside, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Barnes!”

Bucky immediately cringes at the loud greeting and replies, “Hey Clint.”

Clint sits in the seat opposite him and sniggers at the sight of his friend.

“Nat told me you looked like shit, I thought she was exaggerating. She really wasn’t, eh?”

“Fuck off Barton. I feel like I’m dying over here. You should be trying to help me, console me. Not laugh at your friend’s pain.” Bucky takes a long sip of his coffee. _God, coffee is amazing_.

“All right, all right, all right.” Clint hold up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

Bucky shakes off his apology, offers a small smile at his friend and lets out a deep breath.

They make small talk for half an hour, realizing that they both had been played by Nat before, Bucky with battleship and Clint with scrabble.   
“Dude how do you even lose a scrabble drinking game? What the hell _is_ a scrabble drinking game?”

Clint shrugs, “She is a master of manipulation.”

Bucky chuckles and checks the time on his phone. Realizing he’s got twenty minutes to get to his next class, he says his goodbyes to Clint and tells him he should come over sometime soon and starts to make his way to class.

Bucky’s always been the type to show up to class early, if he’s able to. He hates walking into class late. Having everyone stare at him as he scrambles to find a seat for himself has always made his anxiety skyrocket. So if he can help it, he’ll try to be one of the first to class. He sits in the middle of the giant hall; close enough to hear his professor clearly, but not enough to risk his teacher calling on him. He plans out where he sits depending on the teacher he has. If the teacher doesn’t have a habit of picking on students, he’ll hit closer to the front. If they do, then he either tries to skip the class entirely which he knows is shitty of him but it’s also shitty to be picked on in the middle of 100 students, or he’ll try to blend in towards the back of the class.

He walks into the classroom which shouldn’t even be considered a classroom, it should be considered a theatre. During his first year, Bucky was always gob-smacked at the sheer size of Columbia classrooms. Some are intimate and small, and some are huge and grand. He feels proud to be going to Columbia. It’s been a dream of his ever since he could remember, and he worked his ass off to attend. He finds the seat he’s been sitting in all semester, and opens up his laptop to finish up on the final assignments for the year. Five minutes later, the room begins to fill up slowly as other students find their seats. Bucky isn’t paying much attention to them, he’s got music playing in his ears to help him focus when he suddenly feels someone close to him.

“Hey, Buck,”

The brunet looks up to see Steve looking down at him. Piercing blue eyes gazing at him through long lashes. The man is quite a sight. As usual, he’s wearing a white shirt that looks _way_ too small for him, so it shows off his toned figure. It’s hard for Bucky to believe that Steve looked so different when he was younger.

From the pictures he’s seen, Steve was a dangerously frail and small child. Constantly in and out of hospitals for pneumonia, severe asthma attacks, the list went on. His parents—Sarah and Joseph Rogers, had always prepared for the worst whenever he was admitted to hospital. When Steve recounted the stories to Bucky, the latter could sense in the blond’s voice that he felt guilty. Guilty for putting his parents through such an horrible ordeal. Bucky’s tried to remind Steve that it wasn’t his fault he was sick, that it was just some shitty circumstances, but Steve always brushed it off. But now? Steve was way over six feet, and made of pure muscle. His lungs had stopped sucking at being lungs, he was easily the most fit person Bucky knew, and if that wasn’t a 101 on how puberty can change your life, he doesn’t know what is.

Today, his golden hair is semi-slicked back, just a few strands out of place. And then he smiles at him. _Fuck_ , that smile could light up the whole goddamn room. It was the type of smile that was never artificial. You couldn’t help but vibe with the guy. It was one of the first things that attracted Bucky to him. Yeah, the guy was basically an Adonis, but his body had nothing on how that smile made Bucky feel.

_Warm, safe, at home_

Steve takes out his own laptop from his bag and sits to Bucky’s right.

Bucky gives his friend a half smile and greets him back. His heart feels like its going to burst out of his chest.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

“Ah, nothing much other than the third university student existential crisis I’ve had this week.” Steve chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I _hate_ the end of the semester. I feel like a chicken with their head cut off. I have a million assignments due in the next two weeks and I definitely don’t have enough time to do all of them.”

“Same here. Not only that, but I have the world’s worst hangover right now.”

“Yeah, Wanda told me.”

“Oh, come on! How the hell did she find out? Is Nat out there telling everyone under the sun about my dumbass mistake?”

“Pretty much,” Steve pats his friend on the shoulder.

“In my defense, I gave her a run for her money…I think.”

“Buck, let’s be honest. No one can outdrink her.”

“One day I will.”

Once class begins, they keep quiet and take notes off their laptops. Okay, Steve takes notes. Bucky’s trying to, and he writes as much as he can—which isn’t much, but he’s mostly distracted by Steve. He glances over at him way too many times, even though Steve doesn’t seem to notice. _Oh, he smells like lavender today_. Wait, did he seriously just think that? Bucky shakes his head to snap out of whatever possessed him to recount what Steve smelled like today… _Focus on the lecture_ , he scolds himself.

_Okay so what professor Philips talking about again…?_

_If Steve smells like lavender, it’s because he slept over at Sharon’s last night_. Bucky has come to assume that if he smells like lavender it’s because he slept over at his girlfriend’s the night before and used her body wash. If he smells like vanilla, then he slept at his own place.

Why the hell was Bucky thinking this?

Steve must have seen him argue with himself over the conversation happening in his own head because the blond’s laptop was turning to face him because when Bucky peered over at Steve’s laptop screen, the words “Are you okay?” were written on an empty word document. Bucky nodded and simply blamed it on the hangover.

_Get your shit together, Barnes_

* * *

The rest of the day goes by relatively quickly. Bucky still feels like shit when he’s finally able to retreat to his and Nat’s apartment. She’s already starting supper when Bucky drags his body into the apartment, taking off his shoes and collapsing on the couch, letting a deep breath out.

“Honey! Welcome home! How are you feeling?” Nat exclaims as she cuts up some vegetables.

“I am never getting that wasted on a school night again.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Bucky can hear the sizzling of…. something. Whatever it is, Bucky is ecstatic to finally eat a proper meal. Natasha has always been an amazing cook. She can whip up something amazing with a bunch of random ingredients. Bucky loves and appreciates her cooking so much, given the fact that he can barely make toast without burning it. She’s tried teaching him how to cook before, but it always ended up with her yelling at him that he’s incorrigible before finishing it up herself. To be fair, Bucky is ridiculously awful at listening and following instructions. He usually jokes around and adds too much of one ingredient or omits another because it “doesn’t fit the process”. Nat once hit him over the head with a wooden spoon before cursing in Russian and telling him to get the hell out of her kitchen. From then on, Bucky keeps out of the kitchen whenever she cooks.

With _Friends_ playing in the background, they eat and chat about what the summer will bring for the both of them. Natasha plans on going back home for the summer, given that she hasn’t seen her family since she left in August. Bucky’s going to be heading upstate to Westchester and spend it with his parents and sister. He doesn’t get to see them often, so he takes advantage whenever he can to be with them. They’ll set up the apartment on Airbnb for whenever they won’t be on the island and that’ll give them a little bit of cash to play with when school comes back around.

Once they’re done eating, Bucky clears the table and washes the dishes. While he cleans, Nat is finishing up on some assignments at the dining table. They’ve known each other since middle school and have lived together for the last three years. Bucky could not be more thankful to have her as a friend. She was the one person who was there for him when that _thing_ happened back in the summer before college. She was the only person Bucky confided in, and she’s still the only person who knows the full details of that night. He finds it hard to be fully transparent with people and open up to them, but Nat knows him. She knows when to press him and when not to. They mesh so well together, it surprises people when they deny dating rumors, because for some reason, it happens _a lot_.

First of all, Bucky’s only interested in people with dicks. Second of all, even if he entertained the idea of being with a woman, Natasha would never come to his mind. He loves her completely, and she’s absolutely beautiful, but they work so well together _because_ they’re only friends. It’s almost like they’ve been through _too_ much together to think about dating. They’re soulmates—there’s no doubt about that, but platonic soulmates.

Besides, Bucky can tell Natasha and Clint have been pining for each other for _months_ now, it’s making him sick. Bucky doesn’t know what’s holding them back. It’s so obvious to anyone who sees them together. Maybe Clint’s too much of a coward to make a move. Maybe Nat’s scared to finally admit she has feelings for someone; she’s always been the type of person to internalize her feelings. She’s only ever admitted to Bucky once that she had feelings for Clint and that was followed by a threat that she’d kill Bucky if she mentioned anything to anyone. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d take that risk.

“Wanda’s coming over soon, by the way.” She says just as Bucky puts the last of the dishes away in their place in the cabinets.

“No problem. I’ll probably just finish up some homework in my room and crash. My head still hurts a little.”

“You can’t outdrink me, Barnes.” She snickers, her eyebrow raising.

“So I learned.” Bucky rolls his eyes at her and plants himself on his bed. He has three essays due next week and he’s barely started. He also has four exams to study for which he—again, has not begun studying for. He could kick himself with all the amount of time he’s had to actually start the essays, and what has he done instead? Playing drinking games with Nat, pub crawling with Clint or binge-watching shows with Steve. Now he’s stuck trying to write a one essay a night and then still trying to find the time to study for his exams. He makes a mental note to himself that the only place he’s allowed to be for the next two weeks is at home or in his room, working. Just as he’s about to start his closing argument for essay number one, a notification appears at the top right of his laptop.

Steve’s calling. Bucky scrambles to find his phone and answers it.

“Hey Steve.”

He can hear Steve let out a small huff of air before answering. “Hey Buck. How are you?”

“Well since you asked, I’m in the middle of writing my closing argument on an essay, so not great.” A light chuckle is heard on the other end of the line and Bucky smiles to himself before continuing, “Like seriously, what _is_ the point of a closing argument? I just explained to you the facts. Read the damn thing again if you have a problem remembering.”

Steve’s belts out in laughter on the other end. “Barnes, you’re asking all the right questions.”

Bucky laughs and realizes it was Steve that called him, not the other way around.

“I just remembered you’re the one who called me, and there must have been a reason. What’s up?”

“Okay so you know how I’ve been dating Sharon the last few months?”

How could he forget? He remembers the day he told everyone pretty vividly. Bucky, Nat, Clint, and Wanda were hanging out at Sam and Steve’s place. They were celebrating the midterms being finished with a couple of drinks… Okay, _a lot_ of drinks. Bucky was chatting with Sam in the kitchen, while the others were playing a drinking version of Uno. Then all of a sudden, Steve burst through the door with the most ridiculous smile, taking up half of his face. His whole body had this glow all over him. A glow Bucky knew could only mean one thing.

“Someone got laid.” Clint said to no one in particular.

The room erupted in a series of “woops”, “oh yeahs” and congratulations. Steve’s smile somehow grew wider as he brought his hand to rub the back of his neck. Seriously, how the fuck was someone Steve’s size able to look _that_ bashful?

Bucky was suddenly overcome with jealousy. His palms began to sweat, and he started to feel extremely uncomfortable being in the room. Heat was pumping through his bloodstream, and he bit down on his lip to keep from showing his true feelings. Nat must have been paying attention because they locked eyes. She seemed to give him an apologetic smile and mouthed _I’m sorry_ nonchalantly, making sure no one else saw. Bucky gave her a small shrug in response.

“Dude it had been like three months that you had no action. I was starting to think you were going celibate.” Clint was walking over to Steve and gave him a loud pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Barton.” Steve chuckled before slightly shoving his friend and walking into the seating area. He planted himself on one of the loungers in the living room and recalled the story of his date with Sharon.

Sharon was pretty, Bucky could admit that. Okay, she was actually really pretty. He understood why Steve was so interested in her. She was independent and career-driven. They had met in one of Steve’s art classes and they hit it off right away. It was really hard for him to hear all the stories about how Sharon was so perfect. He could feel the jealously bubbling inside of him. It took pretty much all of his strength not to walk out of the room every time he spoke about how their dates went or whatever else people in relationship do. Bucky wasn’t an expert in that area.

But hearing how his best friend got laid and how everyone pressed him on what happened, Bucky couldn’t listen to that. Without drawing too much attention to himself, he retreated to the back of the apartment where the balcony in Steve’s room was. He lit a cigarette and took a seat down on one of the arm chairs outside. He sat there for a few minutes, trying to let the sound of New York drown out his own thoughts when he heard the patio door slide open.

“How are you feeling?” Nat’s voice was quiet. She plopped onto the arm chair next to him and put her feet up in his lap. Bucky draped his right arm over her legs while his left hand rested on the railing of the balcony.

“It was bound to happen, right? I mean _look_ at the guy, Nat. How can someone like that be single for a long time?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

It was true. Steve was downright sexy. Going to the gym four times a week will do that to you. Golden hair constantly flopping in his face, Steve had a habit of running his hands through them, showing off his thick biceps. It takes all of Bucky’s strength not to _drool_ whenever they’re together. And his lips, _oh god_ , his lips. He’s had way too many daydreams about those lips. What Bucky wouldn’t do to suck that bottom lip and get lost in those baby blues…

She gave her friend a sympathetic smile.

“I just…I don’t know. I just thought I’d have more time to figure everything out. I don’t know…” Bucky trailed off.

“Bucky, it _has_ been like two years.”

He opened his mouth to come up with something clever, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. She was right. He had been pining over his best friend for two years. He had so many opportunities to say something, to come clean about how he felt but something always stopped him. He couldn’t stand the feeling of being vulnerable and pouring his soul out to someone was the exact thing Bucky hated doing. Quite frankly, he was terrified of Steve’s reaction.

Steve never made an indication that he was into guys, and Bucky never knew how to ask without sounding like he was coming onto the guy. He’s only ever seen his friend with girls, so Bucky’s gone and assumed that Steve was straight. Also, he never wanted to jeopardize their friendship but admitted his feelings. Losing Steve wasn’t an option, so if he was stuck burying his feelings forever, for the sake of their friendship, Bucky was prepared to do just that.

“You know I’ll always be here for you, right?” She leant over and grabbed his free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I know. Thanks, Nat.” He gave her a sad smile before taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Buck?”

The sound of Steve’s voice pulls him back to reality. He wonders how long he was quiet for.

“Uh yeah, sorry about that.”

“S’okay,”

“What about her?”

Steve lets out a deep breath. “So today she told me she’s moving back to Portland once exams are over.”

“Really?”

Bucky hadn't seen this coming at all. Just a few days ago, Steve was talking to Bucky about how excited he was about inviting Sharon over to meet his folks over the summer. His parents were throwing a big party for his 23rd birthday, and Steve was pretty giddy about the whole thing.

“Yeah."

Bucky could feel the sadness in his voice. Steve was the type of person who loved with his entire being. He wore his heart on his sleeve, not afraid to declare his love for everyone to hear. Bucky had always wanted to be treated that way. What he would do for Steve, what Steve would do for him. It taunted him all the fucking time. He would never be able to feel that kind of love, not anymore. Bucky was too damaged. 

“I’m sorry about that Steve.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be." The blond's voice was barely a whisper. 

_Fuck_ , hearing Steve in pain makes Bucky's entire body ache. All he wants to do is walk over to Steve's place and hold him. 

"Is there anything I can do?" 

“No, I’ll be okay. Just going through the motions of it right now.”

“How about you come over Friday night? I can invite everyone over and we can all get shit-faced and bitch and moan about life.” Bucky really only wants to invite Steve over, but he knows he could benefit from all his friends being there. Besides, Bucky’s not about to take advantage of his friend’s vulnerability right now, he has morals.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Buck.” There’s silence for a few seconds before Steve speaks again. “Hold on, didn’t you get drunk last night? How the hell are you already thinking about drinking again?”

“I’m a man of many talents, Stevie.”

“Whatever you say, man. I’ll let you get back to your essay. Good luck!”

“Fucking shit,” Bucky curses. “I forgot about the damn closing argument.”

Once he’s off the phone, Bucky tries his fucking hardest to write out the final paragraph of his essay, but Steve is all that’s on his mind. Of course, he’s sad for his friend, but there’s a selfish part of him that can’t help but feel giddy about the ways things have turned out. He has a stupid grin plastered on his face and he’s sure that if Nat were to walk into the room right now, she’d scold him for being happy about this, but ultimately laugh at him.

After what feels like years trying to write the goddamn conclusion, Bucky decides he needs a break from homework. He walks into the living room to see Nat and Wanda watching some rom-com Bucky’s never heard of and sharing a bottle of wine. An empty bottle rests on the table. They’re actually had two.

“Am I interrupting anything?” He asserts, choosing to take the arm chair that rests to the left of the couch.

“You are, actually. Nat and I were enjoying this very horrible and very corny rom-com. Your presence just totally made it worse.” Wanda teases, poking her tongue out at him. Bucky shoots her a grimace before turning his attention to Nat.

“Did you end up finishing your assignment?” She asks curiously, taking another sip of her wine.

He nods and throws his head back against the chair. “I’m so fucking done with university.”

“Tell me about it.” Nat and Wanda reply, in unison.

They make small talk for an hour or two, until Bucky’s too mentally exhausted to stay up any longer. He wishes them a good night, before retreating to the bathroom to brush his teeth and collapse in bed. The last thing he remembers before drifting off is Steve’s smile.

* * *

_“What the fuck are you going to do about it?”_

_“Please, don’t do this… Please, I’m begging you.”_

_All he feels is pain. It originates from his stomach, but he feels it all over his body._

_He just wants the pain to stop. Please let it stop._

_“You will never find anybody who loves you the way I did. You think you deserve to be loved? Are you that fucking stupid?”_

_He feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His head is burning up and he feels a warm sensation at the back of his head._

_“When I’m done with you, no one will ever want to love you”_

_“No…Please…” He pleads. He has no strength left in his body. All he can do is try to prepare himself for the agonizing pain he knows is coming. All he can do is lie there, absolutely helpless, waiting for someone to save him…_

“Bucky…” The voice is faint and sounds far away. Before he can focus on the voice, the pain rips into him again.

_Please stop, please._

“James!”

His eyes begin to blink. He can make out Natasha’s face and red hair. She’s holding his shoulders, gently shaking him.

“Bucky, relax. It was just a dream.”

Bucky’s still somewhat unconscious and struggles to come back to reality.

_“You disgust me."_

“Solnyshkuh…shh…” The voice is soft and the Russian pulls Bucky back to reality.

Natasha’s body is pressed against his. His head is resting on her shoulder, her hand running through his hair, her right arm holding onto his tightly. His chest is heaving and sweat is beading down his forehead. She continues to whisper in Russian; that’s been her go-to ever since she’s had to wake him up from nightmares. It used to happen almost every night a few years ago, but they’ve been a lot more sporadic in the last two years. Bucky has no idea what triggered him this time.

“S-s-sorry, Nat.” He manages to say between deep breaths.

She shakes her head. “I’m here for you. Just relax, Solnyshkuh.”

After a few minutes, Bucky’s calmed down enough to sit up on his own. She asks if he wants water, he nods and she retreats to the kitchen. He could really benefit from a smoke right now. He pushed himself off the bed ever-so slowly, walks towards the kitchen. Natasha looks over at him, as if to ask what the hell he’s doing standing and walking around right now. He points to his cigarettes on the counter and heads to the balcony. She follows suit, and they sit next to each other on the small loveseat on their patio. His hands are shaking as he tries to light his cigarette. Nat takes the lighter from his hands and lights it for him.

“Thanks.” He puts the cigarette to his lips and takes a deep drag and exhales.

“What happened?” Nat finally asks.

Bucky shrugs and lets out another deep breath. He’s learnt after all these years that taking deep breaths—no matter how simple it is, really help.

“Did something happen to trigger any memories?” She places her hand on his and squeezes it.

“Steve called me while I was doing homework? He told me him and Sharon we’re breaking up. Then I finished my essay, spoke to you and Wanda for a bit and went to bed.”

Natasha furrows her eyebrows, trying to figure out what could have caused this nightmare.

“Steve and Sharon are breaking up?”

“Oh,” Bucky realizes he never told her that Steve had called him earlier on to tell him the news. “Yeah, she’s moving back to Portland at the end of the semester.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek for a few minutes and then begins to nod slowly as she pieces everything together.

“I know,” She announces. “Steve told you he was going to be single and then you got excited because you could finally make your move. But then it reminded you of the last relationship you were in—” Bucky shoots her a glare. “Okay, so not ‘relationship’ but you know what I’m trying to say. It triggered this subconscious belief that you don’t deserve to be happy, which then caused all that trauma to come back.”

“I guess I’m not as fixed as I’d like to think.” Bucky avoids her gaze, choosing to stare at the ground instead.

“James,” Nat only calls him that before she prepares to scold him. “You are as deserving of love as me as anyone else. Just because some piece of shit tried to tell you otherwise does not make that true.”

He tries to brush off what she’s said, shaking his head when she speaks. Bucky’s always been extremely hard on himself since that chapter in his life passed. He’s pushed down the resentment and shame he feels and bottled it up inside of him. He’s learnt to brush off any compliment or any reassurance anybody tries to explain to him. He simply nods and ignores them. That wouldn’t have happened unless it had some truth to it. Good, deserving people just don’t land themselves in that kind of situation. Bucky _is_ fucked up, he’s damaged, he’s broken…

But maybe he didn’t deserve the pain or humiliation…Maybe there is some good inside of him. He wishes he knew what to believe.

“Listen to me, Barnes.” Her tone much more serious and motherly now.

“I know, Nat. I just need time. It’ll pass.” _Lie_.

“What you need is to _talk_ about these things. If not to me, then to someone else. You can’t keep bottling up how you feel. It won’t help you heal.”

He’s still looking at the ground. Bucky knows there’s truth to what she’s saying, but he can’t do that, not yet. He’s not ready to come face-to-face with it all.

“Do us both a favor and consider it. Like, really consider it. We all love you and want you to be happy.” She gives him a half smile and plants a kiss on his cheek.

“Fine. I’ll consider it. Happy?”

“Not quite there yet but we’re getting closer.” She flashes him a small smile, and he mirrors her. “Come inside. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” She rises up from her seat and places her hand on his shoulder. He looks up at her and smiles. Nat truly is a beautiful person, not just her looks; that’s obvious. But she’s the only person Bucky feels most comfortable with. Despite being in love with Steve, he’s never been able to fully be himself around him. He’s been too scared that the baggage Bucky carries will be too much for him and it’ll drive Steve away. Natasha thinks that’s bullshit, but Bucky can’t afford to take the chance. He _needs_ Steve in his life, and if the only way that’s possible is to just be his friend and keep his trauma to himself, then he’ll suck it up and deal with it.

But Nat? She’s seen Bucky at his worst. When he would wake up every night, screaming and crying from the nightmares, she was there to comfort him. When he finally confessed to her everything about his past, she never judged him. She didn’t see Bucky any differently, in fact they had actually gotten closer because of it. They knew everything about each other, down to the minute details. Bucky loved her beyond words. Without Natasha in his life, there’s no way he would be where he is today. She consoled him without pitying him. She was the most loyal friend Bucky ever had the chance of knowing.

They walk back to his bedroom and lie down on the bed. Nat trails her fingers along his back and sings a Russian lullaby her parents would sing to her when she would wake up from a bad dream. He exhales through his lips and closes his eyes, thanking Natasha one more time before finally falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's not much plot in this chapter but I wanted to write a fun piece with the whole group and this is what happened. The inspo for the board game scene was from the many MANY times my friends and I played monopoly and the fun that ensues in this chapter may or may not definitely be something that happened to me. 
> 
> This is Steve's POV. unless I decide to change it, one chapter will be Bucky's POV and the next will be Steve's and so on.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> If you guys have any questions or anything, you can always message me on [Tumblr](http://bucknstevie.tumblr.com/) :)

"I'm sorry, Steve."

He’s looking at the table. Sharon’s eyes are on him, waiting for some kind of reaction. Finally looking up at her, he gives her a small smile before his lips form a tight line.

"It's okay, Sharon. You don't need to apologize. You need to follow your heart,"

Sharon was moving back to Portland to be with her high school sweetheart. She explains to him that he had come to visit her a few weeks ago, and the love they had felt for each other hadn't faded. She decided to move back to her hometown to be with him. Steve should have felt some kind of resentment towards her or her ex, but because Steve knew how rare true love was, all he could feel was joy for her to have found the person to spend the rest of her life with.

They were sitting in the kitchen at Steve and Sam's place when she told him the news. Sam was working, so he wouldn't be home for a few hours.

"I do really care about you, Steve." She reassures, placing her delicate hand over his. He covers his other hand over hers and begins to rub his thumb absentmindedly over hers.

"It's okay, Sharon." He reiterates, giving her the best smile he could muster.

She leans over and places a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'd better go." She says, rising from her seat.

"I'll walk you out." Steve pushes his legs from under the chair to walk her to the door.

They say their goodbyes and just like that, another one of Steve's girlfriends has walked out of his life. He's never been bitter about a relationship that didn't work out. Steve's always appreciated the time they spent together and known that if it didn't work out, it's because it wasn't meant to be.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nostrils and decides to distract himself by drawing. Retreating to his bedroom to grab his sketchbook, the one hidden under his bed—that's his secret sketchbook, he walks back over to the living room and collapses on the leather couch. He crosses his legs and places the sketchbook in his lap. Not having a specific idea in mind of what to draw, he starts by running his pencil along the cartridge paper and begins to sketch out a pair of eyes—smoldering and dark. Once he's satisfied with it, he bites down on his plump bottom lip and moves onto the face shape. The jaw is chiseled, and the jawbone comes out just a little as it gets closer to the neck.

Lush, dark hair split almost in the middle, slick to the sides of the face. Eyebrows are furrowed as the blond attempts to capture every detail, every little strand of hair that's out of place, the curve of the nose, the faint appearance of stubble. The more Steve draws, the more he realizes he's outlining one specific person. It's the same person whose face is all over this particular sketchbook.

The sound of a key turning in the lock pulls Steve back into the room instead of his head. He closes the sketchbook quickly as he hears Sam enter the apartment. Has it really been two hours since he started drawing?

"Hey, man," Sam says, kicking the shoes off his feet before darting towards the fridge to get a bottle of water.

Steve rises to his feet to meet his friend in the kitchen. He props himself up on the small island and tells Sam what happened just a few hours ago.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Steve."

"It's okay, Sam. I'll get over it."

Everyone Steve breaks the news to says the same thing.

"I'm sorry."

"That sucks."

His reaction is always the same, "I'm okay." It's now an automatic response. One that feels a little artificial now. Steve feels guilty, he should be feeling a little worse than he does; his girlfriend just broke up with him, but there's a part of him that knew something felt off about his relationship with Sharon. It's not that he didn't care for her. They were together for six months, so there was—without a doubt, a connection between them, but something always held Steve back from allowing himself to fully love her. He couldn't figure out what it was. Whatever it was had held him back from telling his own family about her. Maybe on some level, his subconscious knew the relationship was doomed to fail? But how could it possibly know?

Whatever the reason, Steve was somewhat relieved that the relationship was over. He hated admitting that to himself because it made their time together seem tainted or insignificant. That was far from the truth. He loved Sharon and Steve knew she loved him back. Sometimes though, things just don't click the way you think they would.

The next two days are spent studying and finishing up on assignments given to him by his teachers. If he's not at home working, he's at his favorite coffee shop near campus. By now, the baristas know him by first name, and prepare his usual vanilla latte with two shots of espresso without him actually having to order it. Yes, he needs the extra caffeine.

Today, it's raining outside, so the coffee shop is relatively empty. Just a few other students are studying on their laptops or working together on a group assignment. The atmosphere is peaceful, despite the chaos from the rain outside. There's music playing softly over the speakers while Steve finishes up on a sketching assignment due in a few days.

"Stevie!"

Steve glances up through his lashes and see Bucky walking towards him from the counter, coffee in hand. He's soaked from the rain. His dark hair practically glued to his face, his white shirt—now basically transparent, clinging to his lean figure. Droplets of rain are beading down his forehead, and it's taking all of Steve's strength not to lean over that table and wipe them away with his tongue.

"Got caught in the rain, huh?"

"I thought about staying home today, since the weather is…you know?" Bucky waves his hands around as he sits in the seat opposite the blond, "but then I realized how much I wanted a chai latte, so I braved the rain and ran over here."

Steve shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "All this for coffee?"

"I'm running on this shit right now, Stevie." Steve's always loved when Bucky calls him that. No one else in the friend group calls him that, it's like Bucky owns that nickname. It's an intimate detail just for them.

"If you're busy, I can leave…" Bucky begins to say when he sees the collection of books and unfinished drawings on the tabletop.

"No." He replies before the former can even finish. Bucky offers him a wide smile.

"I mean," Steve clears his throat. "I was about to take a break anyway. This assignment is doing my head in."

"Okay, buddy." Bucky's looking right into Steve eyes. Steve can feel his face getting hot, so he breaks eye contact to put some of his books back into his bag.

"Are you excited to head back home once this is all over?"

"Kind of," Steve admits. As much as he misses his parents and his childhood home, Steve has genuinely fallen in love with New York. He loves that he can order Chinese at 4 AM if he wants to. He loves that he's within a twenty-minute walking distance to all his friends. He loves the coffee shop that knows his name. New York is home. "How about you?"

"Meh," Bucky shrugs. "Could use the quiet, but I also love the noise. I'm like 50/50."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

"By the way, tonight, drinks at my place. I already called Clint and Wanda. I figured you could tell Sam since you live with the guy."

Steve nods in agreement.

"Probably come around, I don't know 10? Whenever you're good to come, anyway."

"Sounds good, Buck."

* * *

Steve arrives with Sam promptly at 10. As soon as they're at the door, Bucky greets them holding a tequila shot in each hand.

"If you wish to enter the premises, you have to take the shot." Smiling from ear to ear and eyebrows shooting up and down rapidly.

"Dude, you waste no time." Sam proclaims as he takes the glass from Bucky’s hand and throws the shot back. Bucky clears the way for Sam to walk into the apartment, where he greets the rest of the house. Steve's still standing in the doorway of the apartment, Bucky blocking him from entering.

"Are you gonna take the shot or not, Rogers?" He challenges, biting down on his bottom lip. Steve’s looking down at his friend, and his throat’s starting to dry up. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat before answering.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Steve shakes his head to snap himself out of his thoughts before taking the shot from Bucky's hand and swallowing it. He could have sworn he felt some kind of electrical spark run through his whole body when their hands touched, but Bucky doesn't seem to take any notice of it. Must have been only in his head.

Nat is standing in the kitchen, putting bags of chips in bowls, and then asking Wanda to help her set them on the walnut timbered dining room table. Sam and Clint are sitting on the couch, beers in hand.

Bucky and Nat's apartment is reasonably big, and resembles more of a loft than an actual apartment. The kitchen is to the left of the front door and quite large for a standard Manhattan home. Steve remembers hearing Bucky and Nat arguing for weeks about the kitchen walls. Bucky wanted to paint them black; Nat thought that was dumb because brick was supposed to be red, not black. Bucky retorted that brick can be whatever color they want because it was _their_ apartment.

She eventually won that argument, and the brick walls stayed a brown-red stain.

The thing Steve loved the most about their place was the view. Not only did they live on the 12th floor, but the skyline from that high could take anyone’s breath away. The wall that separated the dining room and the living room was all windows, from ceiling to floor. Steve can't count how many times the view made his knees weak but also fascinate him simultaneously. He loves this city.

"Guys!" Wanda calls out to everyone. "The game's going to start soon, so I suggest you-" she looks over to the boys in the living room, "start making your way to the table."

"What's going on?" Steve whispers to Bucky.

"Monopoly!" Bucky says happily, clapping his hands together.

"Are you trying to break up this friendship?" Sam asks matter-of-factly.

"Only if you're a sore loser." Nat answers while grabbing the board game from a drawer in the tv stand. She walks over to the table and sets the game down.

Bucky’s the first one to get his hands on the box. He takes out the tokens, and then the board.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he proclaims, “Let the games begin!”

“Hold on Barnes,” Nat interjects. She saunters over to the table, holding two bottles of clear alcohol. Eyes around the table widen as she rests them on the table.

“Since Bucky’s such a fan of our drinking games,” Bucky shoots her a glare and flips her the bird. Nat chuckles before continuing. “we have decided to make things more _interesting._ ”

“You guys are trying to kill us, I swear to god.” Clint’s head is in his palms. He’s rubbing his face, groaning.

Bucky and Nat laugh. “You love us.” He grabs Clint’s shoulder and pulls him in closer. Their shoulders knock together, and Bucky gives his friend a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Steve knows he shouldn’t feel jealous. It’s just Clint, but he can feel the heat building in his stomach. He starts to feel uneasy in his own seat, and he’s sure if anyone were paying attention, they could see his cheeks turning red. _Get a grip, Rogers_.

The rules were as follows:

If you landed on someone’s property, you paid them and took a shot. If you ended up being sent to jail, you took a shot. If you landed on someone’s property who had more than two houses on them or a hotel, you had to take two shots.

Just forty-five minutes into the game, things were beginning to intensify between Wanda and Sam. Sam had somehow landed on her property two times in a row.

“Oh, come on! This game is bullshit,” He throws his arms in the air before paying her. She smiles and thanks him. “Your turn, Barton.” He tosses the dice to Clint, a little more aggressive than intended.

“Sam, aren’t you forgetting something?” Wanda’s Eastern-European accent comes out a lot thicker whenever she drinks. She’s holding an empty shot glass in one hand, and the almost empty bottle in the other.

Sam’s rapidly shaking his head. “Nope, not doing it.”

“You have to!” Bucky whines.

“It is not fair that I should be taking two shots in a row. Steve’s barely had two!” Motioning his hand in Steve’s direction, the latter throwing up his hands in defense.

“Hey, wait a minute. It’s not my fault you’re rolling shitty numbers,”

“Just take the shot, Wilson!” Nat shouts.

Then the room erupted in chants.

“Take the shot! Take the shot!”

“Fine! Fine!” He swipes the shot from Wanda’s hand and swallows it, a small gag comes from his mouth.

“Let’s move the hell on, now,”

Two hours later, and Steve was pretty sure a fight was going to erupt between Nat and Clint.

“You still owe me another 200$ Barton,”

“Nat, I already _gave_ you the extra 200$,”

“You did not!” She erupts, rising from her seat. Laughter surrounds the room. “You owed me 700$, you gave me 500$, you sold your utilities, and now still _owe_ me 200$!”

Clint’s brows are furrowed as he tries to keep up with her story. Realizing that she’s right, he tries to level with her. “Nat… Come on, cut me some slack here,” Steve’s not a hundred percent sure what Clint’s trying to achieve, but his voice has gone up an octave, and his lips are pouting. “I thought we were friends.”

“I can’t bear to watch this,” Bucky starts. “Clint, I’ll lend you the money, so long as you help me take down Steve over here.” He points to the blond at the end of the table.

Steve’s jaw drops. “How the hell did I come into this?” To be fair, he’s definitely ahead of everyone else on the board. He managed to buy both park ave and boardwalk with two houses on each, so he’s raking up some good cash from his friends. He also owns both brown properties, each with a hotel on them.

Clint’s eyebrow raises up into his forehead and begins nodding. “I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, come on! That’s not how you play monopoly. You can’t be forming alliances. Someone back me up here!” He looks at each of the players at the table, begging for someone to come to his aid.

“There’s also not supposed to be drinking involved, but things have changed.” Bucky shoots him a wink before passing the 200$ over to Nat. She accepts it graciously.

“I got my eyes on you, Barnes.” Steve’s eyeing the brunet at the opposite end of the table.

“…two, three, four, five.” Bucky lands on chance. He picks up the card and reads it aloud. “‘You have been elected Chairman of the Board. Pay each player $50.’ Son of a bitch!”

“Oh, hell yeah! Pay up, Barnes!” Nat sing-songs. Everyone at the table begins holding out their hand in that “give me” motion. He pays every person their 50$ and swears under his breath.

“I think I can get used to you giving me money,” Steve taunts him.

“Watch it, Rogers. I’ll jump on you.”

Steve bites his lip. They’re staring at each other from across the room. Suddenly, it feels like they’re the only ones at the table. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it’s so dry. A wave of adrenaline overcomes his body, and if he wasn’t sitting at a table with all his friends, Steve would crawl over this table and crush his lips again Bucky’s. Bucky seems to be thinking the same thing because he’s licking his lips and giving Steve a look that says, “make your move.” Then again, with alcohol in his system, Steve worries he’s misreading things.

Clint clears his throat obnoxiously loud. It pulls them back into the room. Their friends are staring at them, heads cocked to the side.

“Can we continue this game, please?”

One by one, they go bankrupt. First, it’s Clint who ends up owing Nat more than he can pay. He’s still 100$ short by the time he mortgages all his properties.

“I HATE THIS GAME!” He shouts.

Wanda’s next. She owes Sam 50$ more than she can gather. The last one to go bankrupt is Sam, who lands in jail four times in an hour. Without getting any income from his properties to support himself, he gives Steve whatever money he has left as soon as he ends up on boardwalk.

“This is why I hate playing monopoly.”

Now it’s just Bucky, Steve, and Nat who are left. Clint, Wanda, and Sam are still sitting at the table. They’ve each chosen a side as to who’s going to win the game.

“DESTROY HIM!” Sam roars—he’s on Steve’s side.

“Wilson, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll throw you out of this house,” Nat threatens, not bothering to take her eyes off the board. Wanda’s whispering things in her ear.

The board is split between the three, each owning the same amount of properties. It’s just a question of how long it takes until each person bleeds out the rest of their money.

Everyone’s pretty drunk now, and no one’s confident that they’ve been paying each other the right amount. Steve’s pretty sure he gave Nat an extra 100$, and Nat’s been underpaying the two men, without them even realizing it. The room is filled with a mixture of alcohol and competitiveness. No one wants to lose at monopoly.

“NO, NO, NO!” Bucky’s slamming his fists on the table, shaking the tokens out of place. He’s run out of money, and he owes Steve. “Where did all my money go?!”

“To me,” Steve and Nat say in unison. They look at each other and laugh.

“Clint, this is all your fault!” Bucky says, turning to his friend and giving him a gentle slap on the arm.

“How the hell is this my fault?”

“If I didn’t give Nat that extra 200$ at the beginning of the game, I’d be 200$ richer right now.”

“Nobody asked you to pay it for me!”

“THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS, BARTON.”

“Can we just call it quits and enjoy each other’s company before this game ruins the group?” Wanda says what’s on everyone’s mind.

They all agree. Steve’s sure he was going to win, though.

Bucky excuses himself and retreats to the balcony for a cigarette. Wanda rises from her seat and joins him out on the patio. Nat and Clint are busy putting the game back in its box. Actually, it’s mostly Nat complaining that Barton’s putting random bills in the plastic slots. This leaves Steve sitting at the island in the kitchen, fixated on his friend on the balcony.

“Could you _be_ any more obvious?”

Steve jumps in his seat, nearly falling off the barstool. Sam’s leaning over the island to be closer to his friend. He’s shaking his head and lets out a chuff of air from his nostrils.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve tries to be nonchalant, pretending that his friends didn’t see him and Bucky basically ooze sexual tension when they were staring at each other during monopoly.

“Dude, you could cut the sexual tension with a _knife_. Don’t play that shit with me.”

Steve’s staring at his friend, his eyes widen when he realizes that he wasn’t actually being that casual about the whole situation.

“God, is it really that obvious?” He throws his elbows on the table, face in his hands.

“Why don’t you just go for it?”

“Because Sam, he’s one of my best friends. I can’t risk losing that just because of how I feel.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Sam deadpans.

But it wasn’t that ridiculous, at least not in Steve’s mind. Over the last two years, he and Bucky had become so close, and maybe there was this electricity between them, but neither boy mentioned to the other. It was this ‘unspoken thing’ between them, and they lived with it without giving it any attention. They would sometimes flirt, but it never escalated passed that. And Steve was content with that for the most part. Truthfully, he’s terrified that if he tells Bucky how he feels, their dynamic would change. Bucky would most likely reject him, which would make things incredibly awkward for the group. That would also make it really difficult for Steve to be in the same room as Bucky for obvious reasons. The second possible outcome is that they would date and then break up, and then Steve would end up losing twice. He isn’t about to take that kind of risk. He loves Bucky too much to put him in that predicament.

“So you’re just going to live your life not knowing if your best friend loves you back or not?” _Yes._

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Nat sneaks up behind Steve, wrapping her arms around his massive biceps and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing.” They both say, hoping Nat won’t press any further.

She squeezes her eyes suspiciously. Staring them both down, Steve’s prays that she’ll drop it. What seems like forever, Nat nods her head twice before walking away towards Clint.

“We’ll talk about this another time, Sam.”

Instead of paying for ubers, Bucky insists they all stay the night. Nat and Wanda say their goodnights to the boys and go back to her bedroom. By now, Clint is passed out on the armchair. Sam begins to shake him slowly, hoping to wake him up without startling him. It doesn’t work. Clint shrieks and jumps out of his seat. “Wh-h-at’s going on?”

“Dude, you fell asleep on the chair.”

“And the problem is?”

“We’re pulling out the couch.”

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Clint’s barely conscious enough to know what’s going on. He’s continually blinking to stay awake, but Steve can tell he’s going to fall back asleep any second now. Bucky and Sam pull out the couch, and Steve ushers Clint onto the sofa. As soon as his head is resting on the couch pillows, he starts snoring.

“Who’s bunking with sleeping beauty over here?” Steve asks.

“I’ll do it. I’m an incredibly deep sleeper, I won’t hear his snoring.” Sam replies. He looks over to the blond and flashes him a quick wink.

“Sounds good. G’night, Wilson.” Bucky turns on his heel and begins to make his way to his bedroom.

“What are you doing, Sam?” Steve whispers, making sure Bucky is out of earshot.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve shrugs, before giving him _another_ wink.

Steve just rolls his eyes and follows Bucky into his bedroom. When he enters, Bucky’s already undressed down to his boxers, and Steve’s breath catches. Even when the room’s dark, he can see the silhouette of his body. Although Bucky never works out, his chest is pronounced and defined. Steve guesses it’s because of his fast metabolism.

“See something you like, Rogers?” Bucky teases.

“Sorry,” Steve says, feeling self-conscious. He closes the door behind and makes for the bed.

“You’re going to sleep in jeans?” The brunet is now sitting in bed, pulling the covers up to his chest.

Steve begins to feel heat rushing to his cheeks. He knows he’s blushing, and he’s thankful Bucky won’t be able to see him. Steve contemplates keeping the jeans on for a minute before giving in and sliding them off his body, putting them in a neat pile on the side of the bed. He climbs into bed, next to his friend.

“The room’s spinning. Is the room spinning?” Bucky mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

 _Yes. Yes, it is_ , but for very different reasons.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Steve doesn’t even know why he’s so nervous. They’ve slept in the same bed before, after a night of partying. It’s nothing new but regardless, Steve can’t help but feel like it’s different this time. He wonders if Bucky feels it too.

“Steve? Did you fall asleep?”

“Yeah, no sorry. I don’t feel like the room is spinning.” Steve replies, also staring at the ceiling.

Bucky lets out a sigh of content. He turns to face Steve, “Did tonight help at all?”

“Hmm?” The blond turns his head to meet Bucky’s gaze.

“About Sharon. Did it help?”

Steve’s almost at a loss of words. He hasn’t really thought of her since they broke up. Admittedly, being in bed with Bucky has him thinking of other things, but Steve can’t admit that—he won’t. So instead, he lies, “Yeah, it really did. Thank you, Buck.”

This makes Bucky smile. “Good.”

His eyes close, and within seconds, Steve can hear his friend snoring softly.

He tries to fall asleep, but he can’t seem to silence the voices in his mind. Here he is, sleeping next to his best friend, the best friend he’s been in love with since the day they met, and he can’t do anything about it. He won’t ever do anything about it. Bucky’s never hinted that he was interested, and Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to hide his feelings. He knew his best friend, inside and out, and Bucky only ever showed love in a platonic way.

After tossing around for what seems like an hour, Steve decides to get some fresh ait. He slowly crawls out of bed and walks to the kitchen to get some water. Grabbing a bottle from the fridge, he passes by Clint and Sam sleeping on the couch and slides the patio door open and closes it behind him steps. He takes a deep breath and it instantly calms him down. Leaning over the rail, he admires the Manhattan skyline. Even around 3 AM, New York nightlife is buzzing away. He faintly hears people laughing on the street, cars honking, music blaring from a building not too far away. He closes his eyes and inhales, the breeze blowing passed him.

“Steve.”

He looks over his shoulder to see Nat standing in the doorway of the patio, leaning against the frame. Her copper hair wrapped in a messy bun.  
“Hey, Nat.” He says before turning his head back to look at the view.

He hears the door close behind him, and Nat appears to his left, propping her forearms against the railing of the balcony. She doesn’t look at him at first, her eyes admiring the view as well. They stand there in silence for a few minutes, a peaceful quietness. She inches closer to him and presses her head against his shoulder. A small smile appears on his lips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispers.

Steve lets out a sigh.

“Not really,”

She straightens out, and turn her body to the right, now looking at him.

“It’s not as crazy as you think it is.”

“Huh?” He shifts his head to look her in the eye.  
“I’m just saying.” She looks at him with hope in her eyes. “Just think about it, Rogers.”

She leans over and kisses his cheek. Turning on her heel, she walks back into the apartment, leaving the door open for Steve to go back inside too. He closes the door behind him and creeps back into Bucky’s bedroom. He’s still sound asleep on his back when the blond enters. He crawls into bed slowly and lies down, staring at the ceiling. Bucky fusses in his sleep and turns over on his side, throwing his arm across Steve’s chest. He can feel butterflies in his stomach. This is enough for Steve.

_For now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will actually include plot! YAY


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so its been awhile...... 
> 
> I really didn't want to wait this long but I started the chapter and then somehow the entire thing got deleted off my laptop and I got really discouraged so I just left it 
> 
> but we're back in business

The drive to Westchester takes Bucky a little over an hour. When he arrives at the gate, he rolls down his window and punches in the code on the keypad. It beeps in response and the metal gate in front of him begins to split open. Finally, he pulls up to the driveway of the house. His parents’ cars parked in front of the garage; Rebecca’s SUV tucked away at the corner of the driveway. A wave of content encompasses him. He’s missed home. He’s missed his family. Bucky doesn’t get to see or talk to them as much as he’d like. Everyone’s always busy with work and school so the only time he actually gets to see them is for Christmas and summer. Admittedly, he knows he could at the very least visit his parents since they only live an hour away, but their schedules often conflict. It just makes the time they do spend together that much more meaningful given.

He kills the engine and hops out of his car. Bucky pops the trunk open and begins to unload his bags. He swings over to the passenger side and grabs a couple of the bags, swings them over his shoulder, and makes his way to the front door. When he gets to the front door, he types in the code to unlock the door—his parents had got rid of a key lock a while ago. For some reason this makes them feel more secure. Bucky doesn’t question it.

“Honey, I’m home!” He shouts, carrying his bags into the foyer. As he turns to get the rest of his things from his car, he hears footsteps approaching and Rebecca appears in the doorway. She lets out a yelp and rushes to hug her brother.  
“Jamie!” She wraps her arms around her him, nearly causing Bucky to drop his bags on the floor. He lets out a chuckle.

“Hey Beck,” Speaking into her neck, he hugs her tighter. It had been almost six months since he’s seen his sister, and he’s always amazed by how much she’s grown whenever they’re apart. “Let me get a good look at ya.”

He pulls away from her and holds her at arm’s length. Her hair is shorter than he remembers, and she’s dyed it. Bucky has no idea what the technical term is but it’s a light brown with blond ends that blend into the brown. The older she gets; the more Bucky sees himself in her. They have the same smile; ‘a smile that gives a sense of comfort’ his mom always says. Her skin’s a lot darker than Bucky’s and he’s sure the Californian heat is the reason for it. The first time she told him she wanted to study at UCLA, Bucky remembers groaning and complaining, explaining that California was for hipsters, and only people who didn’t respect themselves went to California. Rebecca called him an old, grumpy man.

“Why is it that every time I see you, you look like a totally different person?” He remarks.

Rebecca shrugs, “I don’t know. I like change, unlike _some_ people,”

He laughs then passes over one of his bags to give to her. Letting out a chuff of air, she carries his bag over into the living room.

“When did you get here?”

“A couple days ago.” She says over her shoulder. “He’s here!” Her voice echoes through the walls.

“James!” He hears his mother—Winifred, climbing down the stairs, and within seconds she’s squealing and pulling him into a tight hug, causing Bucky to drop the bags he was holding. “Sweetheart, I missed you so much!”

Rebecca’s smiling at her brother and mother embracing and decides to join in. His mother is grabbing him from the front, his sister holding him from the back.

“Dad! Dad! Where are you!” Rebecca’s yelling out.

“Guys, I’m suffocating,” Bucky whimpers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees George Barnes charging at them from the living room. His father has a stupid grin on his face and Bucky knows he’s in for it.

“No, please dad,” He’s pleading as his father gets closer. “DAD NO”

His father lets out an evil laugh before throwing his big arms around his family. This causes the rest of them to squeeze Bucky even tighter. His whole family is laughing, but Bucky can barely breathe.

“G-u-yyy-s,” He manages to say.

“Okay, dad you’re starting to suffocate _me_ now. Can you let go?” Rebecca groans.

Their father kisses his daughter’s hair and lets go of the bear grip he has on them. The rest of the family follows suit. Bucky’s chest is heaving, and he crouches down, trying to let in as much air into his lungs as possible.

“You…You… You guys are trying t-t-to kill me,”

George lets out a big laugh before picking up the bags Bucky dropped when his mother grabbed him and disappears up the stairs, Rebecca right behind him with the rest of the baggage.

Once Bucky’s breathing regulates, he climbs up the small steps next to the stairs and follows his mom into the kitchen. He plops down in the two-seater booth in the kitchen and watches his mother grab a glass from the cupboard. She pours a glass of water and hands it to him. He mouths ‘thank you’ and she smiles, pinching his cheek gently.

“How was the drive?” She asks, seating herself in the booth opposite him.

He takes a big gulp of water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was good, relaxing.”

“How’s Natasha?”

“She’s good. She called me on the drive here saying she got there safe and all that. She’s excited to be back home for the summer.”

“Bucky, just _how_ many bags did you bring?” His sister calls out.

“I have a lot of shit!” He says over his shoulder.

“And I thought _I_ brought a lot of stuff,” he hears his sister say to their father. George chuckles in response.

“Come on, let’s help them,” Winifred says, rising to her feet. “Or else they’ll be complaining for the rest of the night.”

Bucky nods and follows his mother back to the foyer. Rebecca is dumping the last of Bucky’s things at the door. He takes a bag and heads up to the second floor. His room is to the left of the stairs. It looks less like Bucky’s room and more like a guestroom now. The walls are off-white panels, framed pictures of the family hang on either side of the bed. A black and white checkered duvet hangs over the bed and Bucky can barely recognize the room. Seems like every time he comes home; his room’s been changed. The posters and medals he used to have on the wall are gone now, his parents must have put them in storage. He knows they would never throw anything out that once belonged in the room.

Bucky sits down on the bench at the foot of the bed and closes his eyes, remembering all the memories he’s had in this bedroom over the years, and realizes just _how_ much he’s changed since he was a boy. He used to be such a carefree soul, a genuinely happy kid. _What happened to him?_ He wonders.

The memory that he’ll never forget is the moment he told Rebecca he was gay.

Bucky was seventeen, Rebecca was fourteen. They had been sitting on the carpeted floor, drinking from George’s secret stash of booze. They shared the bottle and were fully enjoying each other’s company. They weren’t the type of siblings that hated one another and only grew to love each other as they got older. Bucky and Rebecca always had a healthy relationship and considered themselves really lucky whenever they’d see other siblings yelling and fighting.

“Beck, I gotta tell you something,” He passed the bottle to his sister after taking a shot’s worth of alcohol from the bottle.

“Do tell, bro.”

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled through his lips. Looking down at his thumbs, he thought about making something up at the last second, but he knew this was something that needed to be done.

“I…I’m gay,” he whispered, eyes still planted on the hands in his lap. He could feel his sister staring at him, but he couldn’t meet her gaze. It’s not that he was ashamed or thought she’d react negatively, but he hadn’t even told his parents yet. Rebecca was the first person he ever told. It was the first time he ever said those words aloud and he was terrified of finally having to face that part of himself in case not everyone would be as understanding as she would be.

When he still couldn’t look up at her, he heard her shuffle over to him and wrapped her brother in her arms. Rebecca held onto him for a long time, not saying anything. The silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, the silence explained everything that needed to be said. She loved him. It didn’t matter who Bucky dated because Rebecca accepted him for who he was. He had always had a good relationship with his sister, but at that moment, he never felt so connected to her. Here he was, being at his most vulnerable and Rebecca was supporting him.

“I kinda always knew though,” She remarks, her face still buried in his chest.

“How the hell did you know?”

She pulls away from him. “Call it a sister’s intuition.”

“Knock, knock” Bucky hears two taps at his door. He looks in the direction of the sound and sees Rebecca in the doorway of his room. She walks into the room and sits next to him on the bench. Bucky feels her head lean against his shoulder. He smiles to himself.

“I missed you, Jamie”

“Missed you too, Becks.”

“James! Rebecca! Come down, we need your help for supper,” Winifred shouts from down the stairs.

“Let’s go,” Rebecca jumps to her feet and motions for her brother to follow.

Bucky groans. “Beck you know I have literally no skill in the kitchen.”

She walks over to him, grabs his wrist and hoists him to his feet. “You and I both know mom’s not actually going to let you anywhere near the kitchen. You’re on table duty.” Her mouth opens into a full smile, pearly whites flashing. Bucky groans again and pouts, but he lets his sister drag him down the flight of stairs to the kitchen.

Bucky sets the table like a good son and his mother gives him the nod of approval. At least he can _something_ right. George and Rebecca begin bringing food to the table. Salad, oven-roasted potatoes, brussels sprouts, some kind of casserole, and fish. Bucky stands stunned at the sheer amount of food on the table. “How many people are we expecting, mom?” He asks.

“No one, why?” His mother responds, still in the kitchen.

“Because you somehow cooked a meal fit for a family of fifteen people,” Rebecca retorts as she brings out another platter of roasted veggies.

His mother suddenly appears in the doorway to the dining room, holding two bottles of red wine, and places them on the table. “I know you guys haven’t had a family cooked meal in a long time and I like to spoil my family. What can I say?” She shrugs.

Winifred has always been a kind and generous woman. She was the mother that all the kids in the neighborhood wanted. She was a safe space for kids who didn’t want to go home or didn’t have a place to have a proper meal. She was always going above and beyond not only for her two kids, but any and every kid that needed help. Both Bucky and Rebecca know they can’t ever repay her for the way she took care of them, but they’d both spend the rest of their lives trying to pay her back for it.

Bucky reaches over to the china cabinet and grabs four wine glasses and places them in front of each plate. He pours wine in each of the glasses and sits down at the table. The rest of his family follows quickly after him.

“I’m so happy you two are home,” Winifred begins to say. She grabs her wine glass and holds it up. “To family.” The family hold up their wine glasses and repeat “to family”. As much as Bucky loves his life and friends in Manhattan, being with his family makes him feel a sense of safety and comfort that he can’t have back in the city.

This keeps him grounded.

* * *

After an amazing dinner, Bucky and George agree to clear the table and wash the dishes. The women sit at the kitchen island, keeping conversation with the boys washing dishes. Bucky can feel the fatigue creeping up on him. He wishes he could stay up longer to be with his family, but he quickly realizes he’ll be with them all summer and decides that getting some sleep is probably the best option for him right now. Once the kitchen is back to pristine condition, he wishes his family a good night and heads up the stairs to his room.

He hits the bed hard and instantly relaxes, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. Bucky squirms out of his jeans and makes himself comfortable under the duvet. He expects to fall asleep any second now…

An hour later, he’s still not asleep. _What the fuck, man?_ He was exhausted before and now he can’t fucking sleep. He tosses and turns for what seems like an eternity before finally deciding to deal with his insomnia and head down to the kitchen to grab a drink for himself. He notices his parents’ bedroom door closed which means they’ve gone to bed. He doesn’t take notice if Rebeca’s light in her bedroom is on or off, though. When he gets to the kitchen, he sees Rebecca leaning over the island, looking at her phone. She hears his footsteps and glances up at him.

“Hey, what are you doing up at,” she looks over to the stove for the time. “2:34 in the morning?”

“Couldn’t sleep for some reason. Must be the change of the room or something,” He drags himself over to the fridge, grabs a cold brew bottle and pops it open, before going over to the booth and planting himself in the seat.

“Yeah. It’s like every year our rooms are totally different. They must be bored without us.”

A smile appears on Bucky’s lips. “Hey,” he catches his sister’s attention. She hums back at him, without looking up from her phone. “Wanna go outside?” He asks.

Rebecca nods and Bucky rises from his seat. He walks over to the sunroom and passes it to get to the patio outside. His sister follows suit. They sit on the chairs surrounding the fire pit and Bucky closes his eyes and relaxes. Rebecca walks over to the shed and grabs two logs and some newspaper for the pit. Within minutes, a fire starts.

“How the hell do you know how to make a fire?” Bucky squeezes his eyes in suspicion.

“I’m just so much more outdoorsy than you, my child” Rebecca teases.

“Fuck off,” He quips back.

She sticks her tongue at him and settles in the lounge chair beside him. Bucky leans into the chair, letting his head fall back, and breathes in the fresh air. He hears the trees creaking between the wind, crickets chirping, and no sound of cars or people. Bucky loves New York and the busy life but sounds like this reminds him of when he was just a boy, with no responsibilities, no damage. Just a free-spirited kid.

Nothing like who he was now. After the incident, a part of Bucky was now reserved. He hated showing any kind of vulnerability because in the past it had led him right into a trap. A situation that he felt was his own fault. Had he not acted so ignorantly, he would have never ended up in that alley, almost dead. Had he not been so foolish to believe someone could love him _that_ much, he wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital with three cracked ribs, a concussion, a broken nose, and so much emotional damage that Bucky swore never to let himself give in to the weakness that love carries. This was who he was now, and while it might not seem like a good way to live, it was enough for Bucky just to survive.

“Something on your mind, Jamie?”

Bucky remembers his sister is sitting to his right and nods lightly towards her. He pulls a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights it up. Taking a drag from it, he exhales through his nose and looks up at the sky. Back home, he could never see the stars. There are just too many lights and air pollution to be able to fully see the stars in the sky. But here in Westchester, the stars light up the sky, and Bucky can’t remember the last time he saw some many twinkles in the night.

“Talk to me.”

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong, Becks.”

She arches her brow at her brother and purses her lips. “You’re full of shit. Spill.”

“Seriously. There’s nothing wrong.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes, and lies back in the chair. “Suit yourself.”

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the wind blowing through the woods in the back of the house. He’s smoked three cigarettes since they sat down, and Bucky only chain-smokes when he has a lot on his mind. Rebecca notices, obviously and pressures her brother once more.

“Bucky, are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You’re smoking a hell of a lot for someone who says there’s nothing wrong.”

He can feel green eyes burning at him. He closes his eyes for a moment and then faces his sister. “I just missed this.” He says, moving his hands around. “I missed you, I missed mom and dad. Sometimes I feel like a kid again when I’m here.”

“Yeah, I know you mean. I miss you guys all the time when I’m back at school. Sometimes I think about transferring closer to New York.”

He knows she wouldn’t do that, though. While family has always been important to them, Rebecca was becoming a marine biologist, and she had a lifestyle that wouldn’t be possible in New York. Besides, it made the moments they were together so much more special because of their time apart.

The vibration in his pocket pulls him back to reality. He fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket and sees the name Steve written on his screen. He holds up a finger to Rebecca and accepts the call, walking away so she wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Steve?”

“Hey, Buck,” Steve’s voice is low, but Bucky can still _hear_ the smile in his voice.

“Why are you calling me at three o’clock in the morning?”

“I have a favor to ask you. I understand if you don’t want to because it is the summer and I know how much you love spending time with your family, especially because you don’t get to see them that often—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts. Steve’s the type of person to ramble when he’s nervous and sometimes the only way to get him to calm down is to interrupt him mid-thought.

“Huh?”

“What’s up?”

“Oh, yeah. So, my family’s throwing me a big party for my birthday. They’re inviting a bunch of family and friends over and you know how family is? ‘How’s school?’ ‘How’s the _single_ life treating you?’ ‘Why don’t you have a partner yet?’ All that shit?”

“Yes?” Bucky’s never personally had that happen to him. His family knows Bucky’s quite private when it comes to his romantic life and he couldn’t appreciate his parents more knowing they’ve never pressed him about that kind of thing.

“Do you want to pretend to be my boyfriend for the week leading up to the party?” Steve almost blurts out. Bucky barely understands him when he says it, but after some thought, he realizes what Steve’s asking, and he’s frozen.

Firstly, Bucky’s flattered to think that Steve would want him to be his fake boyfriend for his family, but it’s quickly overcome by panic. How can he pretend to be in love with Steve when he’s _actually_ in love with Steve? Steve would catch on right away and it would be too awkward to recover from. Their friendship would be completely ruined.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice is weak, like a beaten puppy.

“Uh, yeah sorry Steve.” _What the fuck is he supposed to do?_

“Look, I can tell you don’t want to. It’s no problem. I’ll figure something-”

“You just caught me off guard, Stevie. Can I take the night to think about it?”

“Okay, yeah sure. Take all the time you need. I’m happy you’re even considering it. I know what I’m asking isn’t exactly easy.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

He hears Steve sigh on the other end, a hopeful sigh. “Sure, Buck. Thank you.”

Bucky ends the call and sees his sister standing right behind him, arms crossed against her chest. “Who was that?” Her eyebrow is lifted.

Bucky’s lips form a tight line. He runs his hand through his hair. “Uh…nobody?”

“Yeah, right.” She grabs hold of his wrist and brings him back to the chairs. He points to it, ordering him to sit. _Since when did she become the boss?_ He sits down obediently and knows he’s in for it.

“Now, either that was a booty-call, or you’ve got something to tell me.” Her arms are still crossed firmly against her chest. Bucky debates telling her. He could make up a lie to get her off his back, but this is his sister, he could tell her anything without feeling judged or misunderstood. So he takes a deep breath.

“Okay, but it’s a long story…”

“Does it look like either of us have anywhere else to go?”

“That’s true. Okay…”

And he tells her. He tells her everything from the moment he knew he loved Steve (which was—embarrassingly, the day they met) to the gut-wrenching moments he’s had to endure watching Steve date other girls. The nights they’ve slept in the same bed and woke up wrapped up in each other’s arms. The study dates they’ve had at their favorite coffee shop, the study nights they had in the school library. Every moment his heart was consumed by Steve, for Steve. Right up to the phone call.

“And now I’m here confessing all of this to my little sister,” Bucky leans down and covers his face in his hands. “What is wrong with me?” He muffles.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Jamie.”

Rebecca pulls her chair closer to her brother and rubs his back with her hand.

“I honestly didn’t think you were the type of person who believed in true love,” She confesses.

He used to. He used to believe in love and waking up to the same person every day. He used to believe in walking down the aisle, professing and promising love to someone in front of friends and family. Buying a house together, raising kids together, being grandparents. Bucky used to believe in all of that. But that’s not who he is anymore. All that ‘happily ever after’ crap just isn’t possible for him.

“I’m not.”

“Well that’s clearly not true,” She tugs on her brother’s arm and Bucky lifts his head just enough to meet her gaze. “From what you’re telling me, you’re in love right now. Why can’t you just let yourself be happy? You deserve it.”

“It’s not that simple, Becks.”

“It can be.”

Bucky’s shaking his head frantically.

“Okay, let’s take a step back,” Rebecca says, clearly knowing how upset he is. “Are you thinking about going?”

“How can I? Isn’t that just playing with fire?”

“That’s one way to think about it. The other way is that you’ll be able to see how you and Steve would be if you were a couple and then if you still believe that you’re not ‘worthy’-” She uses air quotes around the word, “then you can come back knowing it was an act and nothing more. The more plausible option is that you’ll realize that you and Steve are meant to be together and you’ll be happy together.”

“That seems so fucked up, Becks.”

“Maybe but you never know until you try,”

Bucky leans back in the chair and throws one arm over his face.

“Jamie, you overthink everything. Allow yourself this. Let yourself be happy.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Rebecca yawns and a small smile appears on her lips, even though Bucky can’t see it. “I’m going back inside.” Lifting herself to her feet, she taps her brother on the leg. He peaks through his arm and nods. “Call Natasha if you need to.”

Bucky checks the time on his phone. It’s early morning in Saint-Petersburg and he knows Natasha’s always been an early riser. He debates for a few seconds giving her a call and dials her number. He’ll pay for the long-distance charge.

“Bucky?” Nat answers on the third ring.

“Hey, Nat.”

“Isn’t it the middle of the night over there?”

“Yeah but I need your advice. Rebecca’s sure you can help me.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

* * *

Bucky lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. Rebecca told him to go for it. Nat practically bullied him into doing. “This is the _best_ thing that could happen to you, Barnes,” is what she said.

Even though a part of him thinks this would be the biggest mistake of his life, an even bigger part of him wants to throw himself in the deep end. The thought of pretending to be in love while actually being in love but trying not to make it too believable for Steve to notice but believable enough for his family to believe it truly throws Bucky for a loop. He should sleep on it and make his decision in the morning. Yeah, that’s what he should do.

But before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s already typed out “ _I’ll do it, Stevie.”_ And sent it to Steve. Adrenaline courses through his veins and he feels like his heart is in his throat, but he doesn’t care. He’s doing this _for_ Steve.

He’s doing this _for_ Steve.

_Steve._


End file.
